݁ ˖ꫂ᭪ elaine/lainey , a twenty year old hopeless romantic and southern-belle. <3. lover of astronomy, cats, books and iced lavender matcha lattes. enjin's prettiest princess, qifrey's favorite witch & the #1 suguru geto defender.
݁ ˖Ი𐑼ֶָ֢ this blog primarily focuses on jujutsu kaisen with other occasional works for gachiakuta, witch hat atelier, demon slayer and many more to come!
i do write both sfw and nsfw, so please proceed with caution when reading!
normal people usually do something relaxing when they want to take a break from a grueling week of work. well, you and enjin are far from being normal people, because this is your scene— a shady-looking club in the shadiest part of town, a rundown warehouse that could only be classified as a huge, barely-standing safety hazard.
if the beat of the music hit a wall the wrong way, the whole thing would certainly tumble down like a jenga tower, but there’s not a single person in there who’s aware of their surroundings, mind heavily dazed by one party favor or the other.
the bouncer let you in almost instantly, the line of people waiting by entrance throwing a fit as you flashed the guy a smile (an enjin slid a twenty in his hand).
there’s many other people you could ask to come to the club with you, but none of them bring the vibe you need quite like enjin— he knows what you like, is what you tell yourself.
as soon as you step in, you both make a beeline for the bar for the mandatory couple of shots you need to get the night started. you cringe at the sight of other patrons idling by the counter with their forearms resting atop the wooden surface. the rash you got that one time from the sticky mixture of substances was a very important lesson for you.
with two shots down and a comforting warmth left in your throat, you try to find a spot in the crowded dance floor that you can claim. “see anything?” you nudge enjin’s side with your elbow, growing somewhat impatient since you know the dj’s going to start playing good music soon.
“girl, it’s packed,” enjin quips, patting his ribs just to be dramatic. “girl, you’re six feet stupid, make yourself useful,” you volley right back. he rolls his eyes, then turns his head to survey the area once more. you zone out for a second, and the next you’re being dragged through the crowd.
enjin’s shoulders are wide enough to pave the way for you, though you still bump into some bodies, too lost in the tunes - and definitely something else - to even have any semblance of spatial awareness in them. his big hand is laced with yours, and you try so hard to not let your slightly altered brain stray to any improper thoughts.
not yet.
“does your majesty like it over here?” enjin asks, loud enough for you to hear him over the loud music. he managed to flesh out a spot near one of the booths, the floor slightly elevated, a makeshift railing separating the area from the main one.
“awww, jin! see, i know you could get the job done!” you pat his cheek twice, grinning wide. you see the bulge of his tongue rolling over the inside of his cheek, before his head jerks to the side, trying to bite your hand. you screech, withdrawing just in time, and debate if you should punch him square in the stomach when he barks out a laugh.
“you’re the worst!” you glare up at him, only to be met by half lidded, golden eyes peering down at you, the sarcastic “uh-huh” on his lips ringing so loud in your head even if it’s completely muted by the loud beat. you’re still deciding whether you want to continue this petty back and forth when the dj makes the decision for you, blasting one of your favorite songs.
and enjin watches it happen right before his eyes, your face changing from a grumpy glare to a radiant smile, eyes growing big and sparkly as you spin on your heels to start hooting along with the crowd. now it’s his turn to do what he does best— match your energy.
that’s how the two of you spend the first hour, singing at the top of your lungs, the usual playlist that blasts through the speakers one that you’ve memorized by now. he keeps you close when your small spot begins to get more crowded, but he takes the responsibility to watch out upon himself, making sure you can enjoy your night without worrying about one single thing.
though it’s hard to keep it together when you rub all up on him like a cat in heat, back flush against his front, gyrating to the beat. you use the railing as leverage, ass moving in rhythmic circles that get him hypnotized.
his hand finds your waist almost instinctively, inked finger hooked around one of your belt loops, his only semblance of stability in case he passes out. enjin still tries his damn best to catch everything you throw his way, hips rolling in sync with yours, bucking upwards every time your ass came down.
it doesn’t take long for the silly dancing around to get heated. when the tune shifts to something slower and intimate, enjin gets bolder. he uses your belt hoop to haul you closer, free hand snaking around your side, large palm splayed along your ribs with his thumb stopping only shy of the underside of your breast.
he doesn’t hear your gasp but he feels it, the way your breath hiccups, a slight tremble in your shoulder. he loves it when you fit so pretty and perfect against him, bodies falling into a familiar harmony.
your arm slithers upwards, wrapping around enjin’s neck, your head falling against his collarbone while he buries his nose in your hair. his breathing is heavier, and you know it’s not only because of the heat, or the dancing— his hard-on is quite impossible to ignore, and with all your squirming around, you’re not exactly helping the situation.
and as much as you’d love to taunt him until he basically has to rip you away from the place and brings you back to HQ - if he can even resist all the way there - your parched throat becomes your number one issue.
“i’m so fucking thirsty!” you whine, making your chapped lips pop a couple times as you turn around to face him. you gotta give it to him, he’s very good at hiding the fact that he’s currently dying with a raging boner. “i’ll go get something,” he points his thumb in the direction of the bar. “you try not to get kidnapped or anything, ‘kay?”
“mhm, yes sir,” you purr, nuzzling your nose into the curve of his jaw. enjin knows you’re just being cute because he’s giving you what you want, but he can’t deny that he absolutely loves it.
you idle around while waiting for him, chatting up a girl and dancing a couple songs with her since you figure the line for the bar’s got to be insane at this hour. when enjin finally makes it back, the color of the drinks he’s holding is already a couple shades lighter, melted ice cubes watering down further whatever concoction is contained in the plastic cups.
“thank youuu,” you sing-song when he hands you the drink, lips immediately wrapping around the thin straw to take in a big, freezing gulp. the liquor leaves a trail of liquid fire from your tongue down your throat, your nose curling into a grimace at the absolute foul taste.
“god, this tastes like shit,” you cough out weakly. “i love it.”
after a couple sips you resume your ministrations, like enjin’s chest was a magnet for your back. he is absolutely mesmerized by the way you look, the way you move. the hand that’s not full with his cup is splayed over the small of your back, keeping you all pretty and arched as you whine your hips right against his crotch once more. it’s almost like you love to torture him like this— well, he knows you do.
so he decides to double down, make you taste a bit of your own medicine. his hand slides up your back, fingers coming to hold your hair in a makeshift ponytail and move it out of the way. you straighten up, head starting to move to the side to ask what he was doing, before he stopped you.
the cold plastic cup came in contact with the nape of your neck, your body instinctively wincing from the sudden change in temperature, then you melted into the refreshing sensation. enjin watches the droplets of condensation that were clinging to the plastic transfer to your skin, mixing with your sweat.
when he withdraws the cup, he’s quick to replace it with his tongue, licking along the cool patch all the way to the side of your throat. you try to muffle a noise, but he feels it rumbling in your chest, and the clench of your thighs is another giveaway.
oh, how he wishes it he could hear it over the deafening music, your soft, breathy ”jin…” when you become a needy little thing. he goes over the same strip of skin, this time with languid, wet kisses, biting into the juncture between your shoulder and neck— a promise.
he can’t hear you but he sure can see how worked up you’re getting with all your squirming around. you back your ass into him, but you’ve already tortured him enough. and you don’t have even half of the self control he has.
“awww, someone’s getting antsy,” he chuckles into your ear, gripping your hip to stop you. “be nice, and maybe i’ll take you back. we’ve barely been here for a couple hours, you really want to call it a night so soon?”
you look back at him from over your shoulder, lips curled into the cutest little pout. “jin…”
there it is.
you fully turn to face him, pretty tits squished against his chest as your hands interlink behind his neck. “wanna go back?” you offer, sugar-sweet words dripping from your tongue. long, inked digits dance along the curve of your ass, your hip, pretending he’s actually pondering on the question.
“are you gonna scurry away after you get what you want, pretty girl?” he taunts, the flicker of vulnerability gone as fast as it flashed behind his honey pools. “i’ll stay,” you mouth, parted lips moving against his own after you tug him close.
tonight, you’ll stay until the morning. next time? who knows.
┊┊a/n. og idea from the great mind of the lovely @lxnarphase, with my own added twist :p i miss throwing ass in the club icl
Pairing: incubus!Gojo x pro hero!Hawks x succubus!reader
They always said not to play with your food. Too bad the food is so easily played.
Content Warnings: smut, MDNI/18+ only, fem!reader, porn with little plot, threesome, mind tricks, cowgirl, slight dacryphilia, whiny Gojo and Keigo, cervix fucking, creampie(s), mentions of past breeding/breed kink, so much oral (m! & f! receiving), bukkake, cum eating/swapping, making out, marking, anal fingering, alternating POV's, mostly Keigo's POV WC: 11.9k
My entry for @madamechrissy's JJK Crossover Event. Happy 2 years on Tumblr! 🤍 (Let's pretend like I'm not late) Gojo art by formerly @/sheng5381 on X (if you know the artist's current account pls lmk) & Hawks fanart by @/kanton811 on X. Banner by @cafekitsune
“You’re so sensitive today, Satoru,” you purr out at the man under you. Rolling your hips again, he bucks up into you once more. A little whine forces itself from the back of his throat as his hands dig deeper into your skin, dimpling it under the pressure.
“‘M not,” he mewls, blue eyes finding yours as he tries—and ultimately fails—to compose himself. There are tears in his eyes as his hips twitch underneath you as you lift yourself up once again, only to drop down, his tip smooching your cervix.
“Sure you’re not,” you coo. Your tail swishes behind you before the pointed end gently trails over his flushed skin—trailing up from his abs that tense up at the touch, all the way up to his nipples, circling them slightly.
Throwing his head back, a tear finally slips down the apple of his cheek. It glints in the light spilling into the bedroom, enunciating the pretty sight. “Stop teasing.”
“But you look soooo pretty like this.” You wipe the tear away with your thumb before sucking on the pad of your finger, forked tongue swirling around it—a sight he definitely doesn’t miss by the way his cock twitches inside of you, more pre spilling from his slit, clinging to your walls. “Imagine what the others would think, seeing you like this.”
Shaking his head, little strands of hair clinging to his forehead, Gojo just whines once more. Of course he wouldn’t want others to see, and you’re not going to show anyone else what’s yours anyway, but you can’t help but tease the man a little.
Ever since the two of you had gotten into a relationship, others of your kind shot the both of you looks—some dirty, other envious. Because who wouldn’t want to be with your boyfriend? Both men and women line up for him, offering their bodies up even though it doesn’t feed him.
It almost makes you laugh, thinking about how desperate others could get, saying they would be a better fit for him, telling him they would let him pursue anyone he wanted, as long as he came back to them at the end of the day.
Not that Satoru ever took the bait, though. No, he just stayed by your side, rejecting everyone left and right. Telling them he had already found his mate for life—a thing you normally wouldn’t hear out of an incubus’ mouth. But fuck, if it wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve heard in all of your living years.
You’d given him head until his balls were empty that night, swallowing every drop he gave you with a small thank you falling from your lips every time he came.
And that sight—the one of him cumming, groaning your name, blue eyes hazed over—was for you alone to enjoy. And the humans the two of you went after, but that’s a whole different thing.
This sight, the one of him tearing up—crying, even—and pre dribbling out of him like a broken faucet, however, is yours alone.
It’s not something that happens often. Hell, in your time together it has only happened twice. The first time more than a millennia ago, when the two of you were freshly dating and couldn’t keep your hands off each other. He was constantly over you, putting you in every position imaginable, pounding your poor cunt until the both of you were exhausted—and that was a feat in itself.
The second time was a few years ago, after he had somehow gotten baby fever—a demon, getting baby fever! Truly something unimaginable—proceeding to keep you locked in your room until you were filled to the brim, his cum spilling out of you even days later.
That was truly the first time you also got that sensitive. The both of you not having fed in weeks—yes, that little psycho kept you locked (and filled) in your shared bedroom for weeks on end—resulting in getting more sensitive.
And now here you two are again today, Satoru not having fed enough the last time. It’s not like you can blame him, you did have most of the fun with the human he had chosen for the two of you, while he was stuck fucking you for majority of the time.
While it was fun, these were the consequences of those actions—having him writhe beneath you as his poor overstimulated cock gets milked by your snug walls once again.
Warmth floods your cunt for the nth time that night, Gojo’s abs and balls contracting as he cums once more. His back arches from the bed, lifting you from the bed—along with his own hips—slightly.
That was another thing that was different between the two of you right now. Normally Gojo could easily overpower you, throwing you around like you were merely a rag-doll he was playing with (and you absolutely loved it when he did). But right now his energy was depleted enough that he had difficulty doing what he normally does.
“Love you, love you, love you,” he babbles. His blue eyes shining a little brighter when he looks at you with that half-lidded gaze of his. If he could, he would have hearts in his eyes right now.
Leaning forward, you press your lips to his, nipping at his bottom lip slightly, before snaking your tongue into his mouth. The kiss is more teeth and tongue than anything else.
When he finally comes down from his high, you lean back slightly. “Ready for one more?” you whisper, nail grazing his jaw slightly as you look down at your boyfriend. Nodding his head, you smile slightly before giving him a quick peck.
Planting your feet, you finally begin chasing your own high, hips lifting before dropping them down onto him again and again, tip hitting your cervix every time. A small ring of white begins to froth at the base of his length, visible every time you lift your hips.
Sweat is finally starting to bead down your own forehead, trailing down until it drips down your chin. It mixes with Gojo’s own sweat, his entire body glinting in the low light of the room, making him seem even prettier.
His white hair sticks up at odd angles where you ran your hands through earlier, and it makes him look all the more adorable.
“Found someone we can feed on,” you begin, hips never once stopping their motion. It takes a while before Satoru focuses on you again, blinking away the haze he was just in. “Yeah? She pretty?”
“He is very pretty. I think you’ll like him. And from what I could gather, I think he would also like you.” Another roll of your hips has his eyes roll to the back of his skull, a small moan falling from his lips as he starts fucking up into you, the blue end of his tail pressing down onto your clit, having you keen out.
“G-give me the details later, first gotta get you to cum again,” he grunts. His balls slap against your ass as you lean forward with a slight squeal, hands planted on his chest.
He applies more pressure to your clit. At the same time he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and twirling his tongue around the sensitive peak. “Cum with me, my love. Please. Please?”
“Yes, yes, I will, baby.”
And you do, coming undone at the same time as him. His warm seed fills you to the womb, the feeling never failing to make you feel good. Your snug walls contract around him, milking him for everything he’s worth as you shudder on top of him, tail moving wildly behind you.
As the two of you come down from your high, you finally lift yourself off him. His cum bubbles out of you, dripping onto his abs as you maneuver yourself off him.
“So… what was this about that ‘pretty’ human of yours?”
If he gets called out of bed one more time, he swears he’s going to snap. His wing joints ache, back muscles burning from all the flying he’s been doing, and the eyebags are getting harder and harder to hide by the day.
The HPSC has been calling him non-stop since the last mission. All the calls are for minor inconveniences, but considering there has been an uprise of criminal activity lately, they can’t be too careful.
It’s not like he doesn’t get it, trust me, he does. But it still annoys him to no end that it’s just him, and not anyone else that’s getting called out of bed only forty minutes after laying down for some rest—he can’t even call it sleep with the hours he’s getting.
And fuck, if it isn’t starting to take a toll on him—both physically as emotionally.
His feathers are all crooked and bent, stress keeping him from quickly regrow his feathers. Hell, he hasn’t even gotten the time to properly preen them lately. And that certainly didn’t go unnoticed by the public.
If he has to believe the headlines, people are starting to wonder if he can even keep up the hero life he has chosen for himself. Only, he didn’t choose it for himself, the Hero Commission did. Picking him from the literal streets at six years old, promising his mother that he would be in good hands in exchange for some money and a roof above her head.
Well, he can’t really blame her for accepting the deal. She was trying to survive after all. But some part, deep down in his heart, he sometimes wonders if she couldn’t have tried a little harder.
Still, he can’t blame her. Not for selling him off, not for not protecting him from his father—hell, not even for staying with him for as long as she did. She covered for his crime, after all. The two of them were felons.
And to make matters worse, he has lost the last thing he had of her; the Endeavor plushy she bought him when he was younger.
It was a small thing, something he could clutch to his chest at night as his father would drunkenly yell and smash things downstairs. But it was at least something he had, a small beacon of hope, of proof that his mother, despite not outwardly showing it much, did love him.
Of course the little plush also held symbolic power to it. Endeavor was the one who arrested his father, got him out of the hell-hole that was home. Or well… it was supposed to be called home, but he never felt like it was one.
The feathers on his back twitch yet again. They’re all irritating the wing bone, heavy on his back as he drags himself to bed once more. Hopefully this time he could get at least three hours of sleep in before he had to start patrol again.
Wishful thinking.
Dropping his visor on his nightstand, he toes off his uniform boots before face planting onto bed, not bothering to even get under the duvet.
He’ll take a quick shower in the morning—or the dead of night, considering how you look at it. That’s the last thing he thinks about before sleep takes him under. Blond eyelashes fluttering shut as he fully relaxes the crimson feathers along his back.
“You look tired, pretty bird.” a soft voice from behind him speaks out, catching his attention. Turning around, he looks at the girl that’s standing in his living room. It’s not someone he’s familiar with—fortunately, or unfortunately for him, he remembers most if not every criminal face.
Letting his shoulders sag, he drops down onto the couch. The cushion sags a bit beneath his weight, and it almost feels unreal.
He looks at the girl once more. She takes a few tentative steps toward him, before stopping just shy of the edge of the couch. She’s… pretty, he supposes. A certain allure you don’t just find in anyone else. He thinks Uwabami would be very happy to model a few shoots with her. Or maybe Mt. Lady would be jealous if she were a hero.
That thought almost makes him chuckle. The rookie hero, recently debuted, immediately caught the attention of the cameras. Some say her heroic actions made her debut so attention-worthy (of which Hawks is pretty sure was actually Kamui Wood’s arrest), while others say it’s because she’s pretty,
Just like the girl that’s standing in front of him. She tilts her head to the side, hair swaying with the motion, as she fiddles with her thumbs a little. “Have you eaten today?”
Her voice is sweet, drifting through the air like the smell of chicken—something that catches his attention completely.
Hawks hums a little, letting his head fall back onto the couch. A golden curl bounces off his forehead, nearly poking him in the eye. He should probably get a haircut soon— not that he has the time for any of that, though.
“I’ve had a chicken sandwich,” he replies. Voice a little lower than normal, a small rumble from the back of his throat that he would never let the public hear. Tired. Even from his words he sounds tired. But he can’t keep pretending like everything is fine.
There’s a vague recognition in the back of his mind where he realises he’s asleep. One of those dreams that feel like he isn’t really dreaming, aware of everything that’s going on around him. He can even move his own arms, look around the room, as if he were awake.
Letting his head loll to the side, he eyes the girl. She’s frowning now, a small pout forming as she slowly sits down on the couch beside him—too close for his liking, but not close enough for him to actually voice it.
If he were awake, he would retract his wings, make sure no one would be able to touch his oh-so sensitive feathers. The red little plumes look sad, even from his own view. Dull where they once were glossy. Brittle and dirty. Yeah, he really should take a shower to scrub his feathers clean.
“You can’t keep going like this.” That makes him snap his attention back to her, eyes finding her form immediately. And it’s not like she’s lying, he can’t keep going like this. The amount of caffeine he consumes just to stay awake has been through the roof lately—which says a lot considering he normally already chugs coffees back like they’re energy drinks.
It’s almost like his subconscious has made a human just to tell him he’s slowly starting to kill himself with his sleep and work-schedule.
“I made a promise to keep people safe,” he says, not fully knowing if he’s trying to convince himself or her. But from the way her eyes soften, it is working, even if slightly. “But you also need to keep yourself safe. You almost flew into a building today,” she whispers back.
He almost cringes at the thought. Because, yeah, he did almost do that. His eyes having fluttered shut for just a second—a second too long, because by the time he opened the again, his nose nearly kissed the glass of one of the high-rises.
It’s not like he’s never flown into a building before. He has, just not in his adult years. Back when he was a little kid and was still learning how to fly under the watchful gaze of his handler, he had flown into many obstacles.
They weren’t all too happy to see the little control he had whilst flying. But over time it luckily had gotten better, veering right before banking straight down. His control nowadays was immaculate, being able to dodge buildings at speeds of hundreds of kilometers an hour.
Which is why it made it all the more embarrassing to almost fly head-first into a building. A building where people resided no less.
Would you imagine that. The number Two hero flying straight through your window and crashing into your living room, just because he’s so tired. Fuck, the headlines would have a field day if that ever were to happen to him.
“Temporary lapse of judgment,” he mumbles, too tired to clearly form a counter argument against the girl. Or rather his subconscious mind? Whatever, he doesn’t want to think about that for too long, he’s supposed to be asleep, and by the way this dream is going, he doubts he’ll feel rested when he has to wake up again. “Won’t happen again.”
“It better not, birdie. I need you alive and well,” she whispers back, letting herself relax a little more into the couch. From the corner of his eye, he can see the way she is careful not to brush against any of his wings, staying clear of the odd feathers that are sticking out.
Alive and well. The first one he can do, though not guarantee with his job. The second one, however, is much harder. He hasn’t been well in a long time if he were to be honest. Not that he would ever voice that out loud, though. He’s a hero, the Number Two Hero, the HPSC’s perfect weapon. No one is supposed to know that he isn’t doing well.
Before he can think further about it, movement from the corner of his eye catches his attention. The girl has leaned forward, more into his space now. She’s still careful not to sit on any feathers, or even brush against them with her leg. But her hand is hovering in front of his face now.
The crimson plumes along his back sharpen the moment he sees how close she is to touching him. Her hand immediately stops, eyes tracking the way the once-soft feathers are now as sharp as knives.
“You- I-” her fingers twitch where they’re in front of his face. Swallowing, she finally moves her arm again in a slow, careful movement. Her thumb brushes his forehead slightly, before it presses down between his eyebrows. “Just relax a little,” she murmurs, smoothing over the pinch between his brows he didn’t even know was there.
Once Hawks realises there is no threat, he forces his feathers to go back into their resting state. From sharp to soft, brushing against the couch.
He does as she says—letting himself fully relax. Something he hasn’t done in ages, evident by the frown lines between his brows and the strain in his muscles.
The touch is soft, soothing. There are no words spoken anymore, just a thumb that rubs relaxing circles into his skin. It makes him close his eyes, letting himself get lost in the soft touch he hasn’t felt in… maybe ever.
That isn’t something he wishes to think about, though. Right now he just wants to let himself feel this, not think about anything—the HPSC, villains, civilians, weird billboard rankings, the way he must look to her.
“Go to sleep, birdbrain. We’ll meet again soon,” she whispers into his ear, just before a feather-soft kiss is placed upon his forehead.
This time, when he opens his eyes again, he’s met with his ceiling. No longer sitting on the couch, but rather laying on the bed—where he fell asleep. Because it was a dream. Just a dream, nothing more, nothing less.
Looking over at his bedside table, he sees the glaring red numbers of his alarm clock blink back at him. 3:57 AM. An hour before he was supposed to wake up for patrol. Which also means he still has an hour of sleep left.
But his brain is running hundreds of miles an hour, thinking about the pretty girl of his dreams. It was… unusual. Normally he doesn’t even dream about things at all; going to sleep and waking up straight away, or well… what feels like straight away anyway.
Running a hand through his wind-tousled locks, he groans. He knows he should get some more sleep, but he also knows that he can’t go out looking like this. So with much reluctance, he pushes himself from the bed and goes to his bathroom to finally scrub himself clean.
If he can’t sleep, the least he can do is make himself look like the presentable hero he has to be.
Not that it matters much, grime and blood cover him at the end of the day once again. It had been a long day, fighting crime and keeping civilians safe.
The HPSC is right to send him out all the time. Crime rates haven’t been this high in forever, but he can’t help but wonder if there’s anything more to it. Not that he has time to wonder. Taking a quick shower, he almost falls asleep under the spray of warm water, relaxing his over-used muscles just slightly.
When was the last time he was this tired?
Gosh, it must’ve been ages ago, when he was just a little boy. The HPSC has trained him for as long as he can remember, but never once did he feel like this—like he would keen over if someone so much as blew on him. Like a little feather in the wind.
Collapsing onto the bed, he lets himself stare up at the ceiling for a little while. The day was long, having saved loads of people, using a lot of his feathers in the process. His wings are starting to look a little bare, some gaps visible.
But fuck, if it doesn’t make him feel good. He signed up for this. Signed up to be the protector of those who can’t protect themselves—whether legally or just because they can’t in general, just like he couldn’t all those years ago.
Closing his eyes, he lets himself relax, body moulding to the bed. Wings finally relaxing a little, their weight no longer dragging on his back as he’s laid down.
It’s only when he tries to empty his mind that he gets reminded of last night. Or well, of his dream. The one where that pretty lady visited him. That is if she’s real, and not something his mind completely made up to warn him that he’s slowly killing himself with the way he’s going right now.
He’s seen it before, of course. Hero’s who burn out, both rookie as veteran heroes who try to take on too much work. Destroying their minds and body at the same time, not taking enough breaks.
Fuck, when’s the last time he’s had a break? Two, three months ago?
That seems about right.
Food is another thing. With the constant quirk usage, he should be eating more—way more. The constant use of his wings and feathers means he burns a lot of calories. The intake, however, isn’t something he’s proud of.
Earlier in the shower he noticed how lean he’s starting to look. Sure, he’s always been on the leaner side compared to some of the other heroes—he needs to be, otherwise he can’t comfortably fly anymore—but he was never this lean.
It’s also noticeable that he can’t comfortably get to the speeds he once could. Flying at three hundred kilometers an hour should be easily doable for him—hell, he’s hit eight-hundred before, though that wasn’t in a city, but rather when flying to the other side of the country. But he just… has to exert more energy to hit his normal speed.
For a moment he wonders how long it’s going to take the HPSC to notice it. Notice the fact that their perfect weapon is slowly starting to fall apart right in front of their noses. Notice that their constant demands are starting to eat away at him.
Then again, they would do anything to use him. And he gets it. He’s been trained for this after all, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Yes, he wants to help people. Yes, he would do anything to protect them. But then he thinks back on last night, on how that girl was telling him he should take better care of himself. At least eat a little more.
Will she be there again tonight? Stand in the same room as him, looking him over, assessing his state. Would she notice that he looks cleaner now, more presentable—more hero-like. Or would he not dream of her again.
The only way to find out is fall asleep. And even though he would love to, he just can’t shut his mind off. It’s racing at a hundred miles an hour, thinking back on villains and the information they all accidentally dropped without even realising.
Is there a connection between them? A small group of villains acting, or is it just individual people who think they can get away with it—as if they can outrun him, the fastest hero in all of Japan.
Stupid, honestly.
By the time he finally falls asleep, it’s almost a whole hour later. His eyes slipping shut as he was still thinking about everything that has happened over the past few weeks.
“I thought you were gonna skip out on me.” Is the first thing he’s greeted with when he opens his eyes again, this time still in his bed. It makes him freak out a little, because is she really in his bedroom, or is this a dream again?
Turning his head, he can see her sit on the floor at the end of the bed, head propped up on her fist as she cocks her head to the side. Hair cascading down her face, making a makeshift curtain. The moonlight from outside slipping in, illuminating her figure.
For a second, just one, he swears there’s something waving behind her—almost tail-like. Thin and black. But it’s gone as soon as he saw it.
She grins when his eyes find hers again. Blinking a few times, he sits upright. “You were waiting for me?”
“Of course I was. I told you I would, didn’t I?” She easily replies, a little teasing lilt to her voice. Her eyes crinkle as she grins a little wider, almost as if he said something funny.
And it’s true, she did say that she would meet him again soon, but he didn’t realise soon meant the literal next day. “Soon isn’t the same as ‘tomorrow’”
There’s a glint of amusement in her eyes now. Something so different from yesterday, he has to blink a few times to really see if this is the same person.
Her eyes rake down his body, stopping slightly at his bare waist. Her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip, before she looks back up at him again. “Did’ya eat today?”
Ah, there it is again. That concern she had for him yesterday. The grin gone, replaced with a slight frown as she sits upright—still at the end of the bed. Not sitting next to him this time.
“Had a few chicken skewers from a little vendor down,” he admits, rubbing his nape as he looks away. There’s something about her gaze that makes him a little nervous. Him, Hawks, the one who eyes people like they’re mere prey, feeling nervous from a pretty girl just looking at him as if he doesn’t have a whole fan base that thirsts after him.
Her eyebrows twitch a little at the confession, not a full scowl, but clearly not fully happy, either. “That’s the only thing you ate the entire day?”
Hawks has to look away for a second, suddenly feeling much more conscience about the fact that he hasn’t been eating much, especially lately. Yes, his days are hectic, but some proper nutritions should be the least he gets in a day. “Mhmm.”
“I thought I told you to eat more. Need you alive and well and all that.” She pouts, lower lip pushing out as she finally goes to sit on the bed, still not next to him, but at least a little closer than she was before. “At least you cleaned up a little.”
She’s referring to his wings, no longer dirty but rather a pretty, shiny red. Sure, they’re a bit dirty from the fact that he’s been flying around all day, fighting crime and all that, but it isn’t nearly as bad as it was yesterday.
“Mhmm, found some time before patrol to clean them,” he mumbles back, watching the way her fingers are twitching beside her, almost as if she wants to reach out to touch one. Still, she doesn’t. Fingers staying clear of the red plumes, just like yesterday.
“Good, that’s good. Mean you’re at least taking a bit more care of yourself.” She nods to herself, hair swaying with the motion as she finally looks up at him with a small smile. “Now you just have to get more sleep and eat more.”
It’s not so much a statement as it is a request. Almost like she’s trying to force him to eat and sleep more. Well, she did tell him that he couldn’t continue living like this, and that part is true.
The fact that the HPSC doesn’t even see it is quite alarming to be completely honest. But he’d rather be the one they call on—despite the fact that he wants to snap whenever they do call him out of bed—than that they try to raise some just like him.
He knows what it’s like to be raised between those walls, and he wouldn’t want to wish that upon anyone. So he has to endure this.
But maybe, just maybe, there is a solution to his problems. He isn’t sure what, but he’s going to figure it out. And he voices as much out loud. “I’ll figure something out.”
He isn’t sure if it’s to assure the girl that’s sitting on the bed with him, or himself. Not that it matters much, he knows she’s right. He should eat more. His back absolutely burning from all the flying he’s been doing lately.
“Good, because you’re way too young to burn out like this. Now go to sleep, you clearly need it.”
And he does, closing his eyes again, this time no pretty girl sitting next to him on the bed, but just a static black feed behind his eyes all the way until he wakes up.
The next few weeks continue like that—falling asleep and finding her sitting next to him. And each and every time she comes a little closer to him, getting out of her shell a little bit. Telling him about herself, sitting closer to him.
Of course he can’t forget the most important thing of all—she told him her name. A name he wasn’t familiar with, but sounded so pretty when she said it.
She still asks him if he’s eaten, and much to his credit, he has been eating more again lately. Something that’s definitely noticeable by the way he’s bulking up a little—not getting fat, but actually gaining back some of his muscles that he lost over the past few months.
She’d smiled when she saw the difference, though it was still a work in progress, it was at least something.
The eyebags under his eyes also definitely lessened. Getting more rest—not more hours of sleep, but just rest in general—than he ever has. No longer having to use a tube of concealer a week just to keep the bags away from the people.
They would probably be so worried when they saw the state he was in when he left the house. But with the constant reminder from the pretty lady in his dreams, he ate and slept more. Getting healthier by the day, even if the HPSC was still on his ass.
It’s not like crime had stopped in the meantime, petty criminals and actual drug rings popping up left and right. But with some of his strength being restored, those also got handled much quicker than before—something that definitely showed in his rating.
Not that he looks much at those ratings, knowing that the HPSC is skewing the percentages behind the scenes a lot. He’s good, he knows he’s good, but he isn’t number two good if he would look at the actual numbers.
Oh well, not something he really minds.
All he really cares about is you—the pretty lady in his dreams that tells him he’s doing so good lately. Telling him that he looks good, and not just in the way that his fans tell him he looks good; no, she means that he looks healthy again.
Fuck, the way you were running your hands through his shorter hair—because yes, he finally got that haircut as well—telling him you were so proud of him for doing good, almost has his feathers fucking tremble.
Without realising it, he has started to look forward to get into bed—to see you. Wishing the day would fly by faster so he could just close his eyes and see your beautiful figure standing in the same room as him.
The problem is that others have started to notice as well. Not his fans or the press necessarily, but rather his handler from the HPSC. They came up to him earlier today, asking him if he had someone waiting for him at home.
Technically he doesn’t, but the fact that they could even notice that he was more eager to return home after a long day of work is a problem. (How they can see that, but not see that they’re working him to the point of almost falling asleep whilst still flying astounds him.)
Getting cornered like that really didn’t sit right with him. His wings almost puffing up in defense, before he controlled them enough to not be noticeable.
Those same feathers your fingers ran through just last night, his brain working overtime as you oh-so gently ran your fingers along his wing bone, down his big, soft primaries. It almost makes him hard yet again.
But how would he tell his handlers that he technically doesn’t have someone waiting at home for him, but rather in his dreams.
Fuck, they would call him delusional, run scans on him to see if it’s someone’s quirk affecting him—as if he hasn’t tried to research that himself. Spending nights to see if there was any entry of your name in the system with a matching description, only to come up empty.
His not-so-real girlfriend turned real inside of his dreams.
Maybe they would give him some days off, saying he’s hallucinating or something like that. But he knows somewhere deep inside his brain that you are real, just not in the world where he’s awake.
Quite frankly, he doesn’t really care about the logistics anymore. Not after that one night where you ran him a bath and carefully preened his crooked feathers, massaging the knots out of his back from the long hours of flight he has been doing.
To trust someone like that—the President would have his head if she ever found out he’s been getting ‘lax’, even in his dreams.
For just once in his life, he wants to have something of his own, even if there is a possibility that all of this is fake—his mind making up things as he’s asleep; something he wants but can’t have in the real world.
Still, he knows that he’s fucked. …Just not fucked enough to not almost pounce onto the bed, pulling his blanket over him and fall asleep almost immediately.
He’s expecting to hear your voice, that pretty lilt in your voice as you tell him he did good today—having eaten much more than the first time the two of you met a few weeks ago, keeping himself clean, and actually getting a nap in during his supposed patrol (don’t tell the President that, though).
Instead, he’s greeted by a mop of white hair. A mop of white hair that belongs to a guy—not you—with the prettiest blue eyes he’s ever seen. If he had to even try to compare them, he thinks Endeavor’s eye colour would come closest to it—and even then, it’s not even close.
Still, he wasn’t expecting this. The fact that there’s a man in the living room with him, instead of his the pretty girlfriend.
Looks like the stranger notices, tilting his head to the side, bangs brushing his forehead with the motion. “Expecting someone else?”
That… is not what Hawks thought would come out of the guy’s mouth. Is this his subconscious trying to fuck with him once again? Could you not make it, and did his brain know, trying to make up for the fact that you’re not here.
Without even realising it, a small pout forms on his face. Thinking about how, after a long day of work, all he could think about was to pull your body against his, hold you close as you ramble about your day instead.
Now he can’t even do that, considering you’re not even here.
“Don’t look so sad. You have me here now,” the white-haired guy speaks up once again, trying to gain Keigo’s attention.
The hero looks over to where the guy is perched on the couch—much too close for his liking, but juuust far away enough that he doesn’t have to calm his feathers down. “You’re not her.”
That makes the guy smile, a certain glint of amusement passing through his eyes as he looks over the crimson-winged hero. “Astute observation. Though, I can take care of you, too, y’know.” There’s a slight pause before the white-haired guy adds: “In whatever way you want.”
The smug cadence in the guy’s voice makes Hawks stop for a second. Sure, he’s thought about wanting to kiss you and definitely more than just kiss you, but never did he think about actually doing those things. When he still doesn’t answer, the white-haired guy tries again.
“Look, if you wanted her here so bad, then why am I the one that’s here instead? This is your dream, so clearly you wanted me to be here.”
Right, because whatever way he looks at it, Keigo is still asleep. Not actually meeting up with a girl he likes. It’s just him, lucid dreaming about a girl his mind made up and do stuff with. And now apparently there is a guy in his dreams. A very handsome guy.
It’s not that Keigo doesn’t have eyes! The guy in front of him is objectively fucking attractive, but he still can’t help but feel disappointed that you’re not here with him.
“Just let me rest for the night,” he manages to mumble out, golden eyes slipping close already as he relaxes himself on the couch, wings actually tucked in for the first time in forever when he’s asleep.
Much to his surprise, the white-haired guy doesn’t actually say anything further, just lets out a little hum, but actually does let him sleep. Not disturbing him—though very clearly eyeing him with those pretty blue eyes of his, considering Keigo can almost feel them on his skin—until his alarm goes off.
The rest of the day has him feeling rather odd. His mind not completely in the game when he has to catch more villains—of course he still gets his job done, he is Hawks, the Number Two hero after all. But it isn’t quite as smooth as normal.
His mind still back at the pretty guy who showed up in his dreams instead of you. But then again, the guy did have a point about it being his dream, so somewhere in the back of that stupid brain of his, he conjured up that tall, handsome man.
Would you be there tonight, or is it the same guy again?
Well, he doesn’t have to wait long for that answer; going to sleep and opening his eyes to see bright blue eyes staring back at him, a small smirk tugging on the guy’s face. It has Keigo groan out, having hoped to spend some time with you again.
“Oh come onnn,” the guy whines, moving closer to where the hero is sat. “What’s so bad about me, hmmm? Is it because I’m a guy?”
“I just wanna see my girlfriend,” the words slip out before he even realises it. It’s not like you’re his girlfriend, but this guy doesn’t have to know that. Plus, this is inside of his damn mind! He can say whatever he wants to.
Seems like that was the wrong thing to say, though. The white-haired guy tilts his head, blue eyes blinking down at him as he grins. “I can be your boyfriend in the meanwhile.”
That’s how this weird dynamic begins. Keigo doesn’t really trust Gojo—as he said his name was—the same way he trusts you, but much to the guy’s credit, he does actually do a decent job at filling the gaps where you normally were.
Gojo asks him about his days, if he’d eaten today, all while playing with Keigo’s hair or sometimes massaging his shoulders—all things you also do.
So when days blur into weeks, and the blond hasn’t seen you ever since Gojo showed up, he doesn’t think much of it. Feeling more and more relaxed with the tall man around. But then there you are again, sitting on the couch with a pretty smile on your face like you haven’t been gone for weeks.
It makes his mind buffer for a little while, this time having expected Gojo here instead of you. Which is quite ironic when you think about it, considering he didn’t want anything to do with the white-haired guy before, and now he’s almost expecting him to be here.
But it doesn’t matter much, not when you coo at how pretty he looks added with a small kiss on his cheek.. Ushering him to the couch to ask him about his day.
So sometimes you’re there in his dreams, and other times it’s Gojo. He never knows when his mind decides to set him up with you or Gojo, but it doesn’t matter all that much to him anymore. All he knows is that he can feel comfortable around the two of you, no matter which one it is.
“Poor thing, losing most of your feathers in battle like that,” he hears you purr from behind him. Delicate fingers tracing over his lower back as you walk in front of him, staring at his face. Cupping his cheek, he lets himself bask in the warmth for a little, not sure when the next time ’s gonna be he sees you again.
But it isn’t until he feels another hand—bigger, a bit more rough—splayed along his back that he realises it isn’t just you in the room with him. He distantly recognizes the fact that you’re letting go of his face, but all he can think about is how a white mop of hair and blue eyes are looking at him.
It makes his mind buffer a little, having both his boy- and girlfriend in the room (he has long since disregarded anything that makes sense, in his mind the two of you are? Were? The same entity, something his mind conjured up because he’s so fucking lonely. But there was also something real about it.)
Not that it matters much when Gojo pushes out that plump bottom-lip of his, already glinting with some saliva. The thing looking almost kiss-bitten already, red where they’re normally a lighter shade of pink. “What happened to your wings, pretty boy?”
Hawks opens his mouth a few times, wanting to tell the two of you what exactly happened, but his mind is still buffering from the fact that you’re both here—at the same time.
“I just- battle gone wrong. What… what’s happening?” He breathes out, confused. Golden eyes tracking the way Gojo now is also standing in front of him. But instead of those pretty blue eyes looking at his own golden ones, they’re completely focused on you.
You, who smile up at the white-haired man. A smile so devious, Keigo isn’t sure he’s ever seen it before—it was much more in character for Gojo to smile at him like that, not you. Especially when you’re looking at someone who’s supposed to be a stranger, or that’s what Keigo thought anyway. But from the way you two are looking at each other, it certainly does look like you two have known each other for a while.
And as if he wasn’t confused enough already, Gojo surges forward, crashing his lips upon yours. There is no sweetness in it, not the way he has kissed him before, with those tender kisses being placed upon Keigo’s scarred, suntanned skin. No, this is all heat and passion—teeth and tongue.
Your hands move to Gojo’s hair, tugging on it so harshly, it gains a groan from the white-haired man. That same groan that does something to Keigo he isn’t sure how to admit.
Gojo pulls your body further against his, chest to chest, him having to bend down a bit to fully reach you as your tongues clash. And all Keigo can do is watch the two of you just blatantly make out in front of him.
That should be him …right? So why does he feel so turned on when watching his whatever-the-fuck the two of you were of his, make out with each other?
A low, needy noise escapes his lips without even realising it. But it seems like, despite being so preoccupied, both you and Gojo could hear it loud and clear. Disconnecting your lips from one another, a thin string of saliva connects the two of you. It glistens in the low bedroom light, gaining Keigo’s full attention before it snaps.
Your eyes are half-lidded as you look at the hero, chest heaving up and down with each ragged breath you take. Your hands slooowly sliding from Gojo’s hair to his chest. “I think someone wants in on the kiss,” you comment to Gojo before cocking your head to the side. “Don’t you, baby?”
Keigo can only stand there, hands clenching and unclenching as his heart beats against his chest. A small nod is all it takes for the two of you to move.
Gojo moves to his back, one big hand gripping his waist as the other perches on his hip. They move up and down slightly as you position yourself in front of the blond. One hand trails from his chest all the way up to his jaw. Your fingers leaving behind a trail of goosebumps on his scarred skin. “Need you to use your words for me.”
“Yes please, wanna kiss you.” Keigo swallows, blown-out pupils looking you over as you smile up at him. “Attaboy,” you whisper, before your lips meet to move his.
It isn’t as rough as the kiss between you and Gojo, not with the way you’re trying to coax his lips open with your tongue. Nor with the way you keep the speed down a little, letting it drag out a little.
Keigo’s hands find your hips, pulling you further into him. Feeling the way your breasts are squished against the hard planes of his body. At the same time, he can feel Gojo’s hand squeeze his own hip. Lips ghosting Keigo’s ear. “Doing so good for us.”
That makes the blond moan out into your mouth, the praise traveling directly south—something you can definitely feel. Especially when you disconnect your lips from his, lips swollen from the kisses as you look at Gojo. “Seems like he’s enjoying this, a lot.”
The white-haired man raises a brow before he looks over the shorter man’s shoulder, looking at the obvious tent in Keigo’s trousers. “How cute, getting that hard over a couple of kisses. And you haven’t even kissed me yet,” Gojo grabs the blond’s chin, turning his head to face him. “Don’t worry, I also get hard embarrassingly fast when she kisses me.”
Before he can even ask what Gojo means, said man already crashes his lips upon his own, muffling the sound. Keigo has to stand on his tippy toes a little to kiss the taller man back, twisting his torso around awkwardly—not wanting to have his sensitive wings squished to his body.
Your sweet giggles fill his ears. “So eager. Knew you’d be perfect for us,” you purr out, one hand cupping the bulge as you pepper open-mouthed kisses along his exposed neck, suckling on the skin.
Keigo groans out into Gojo’s mouth, the feeling of your fingers tracing his hard-on through his pants has him bucking up into your hand, hips moving on its own as he’s completely lost in the way the white-haired man is kissing him. It’s so different from the way you kissed him—sweet whereas the other man is a bit more mean, saliva getting swapped in a filthy exchange.
Fuck, he’s not sure he can keep up with the both of you touching him like this.
There’s a gasp of air when Gojo finally pulls back, blue eyes almost completely disappearing to the black of his irises, only a thin ring of blue remaining. The two of them breathing heavy as they just look at each other for a couple of seconds, before a small thud! finally grabs both their attention.
Snapping his gaze to the sound, he sees the way you’ve dropped to your knees now—not even realising that you stopped touching him—an innocent smile on your face as you look up at the two men in front of you.
Gojo just chuckles, moving to stand beside the shorter man now. Running a hand through your hair, you lean into his hand, eyes flicking between the two of them. Your hands find themselves on Keigo’s thighs that flex under the touch. Your head moving to lay itself on there too, nose brushing against his bulge as you look up at the blond.
“Wanna suck you off,” you place a few teasing kisses on his covered cock. “Please?”
“Y-yeah. Fuck yeah, of course you can, dove,” he stammers out, completely entranced by the way your eyes are so doe-like right now. A complete opposite to how they looked just a few second ago.
A smile stretches across your lips as you unbuckle his belt, trying to get the useless fabric out of the way as fast as possible. And who is Keigo to deny such a pretty girl his cock? Moving his own hands to help you get rid of the garments quicker, his cock springs up the moment the clothes pool around his ankles.
There’s pre beading down his slit, shaft already glistening with it. A prominent vein pulsing on the left side of his cock as the hairs at the base are trimmed at best. It twitches a few times under your gaze, before you spit into your hand and finally wrap it around his girth.
A groan immediately punches from the back of his throat when he feels your delicate fingers tug on him. The little stubs on his back twitch with the touch, a small tingle going down his spine at the feeling. He has to hold himself back from cumming right then and there—already embarrassingly close from just a few kisses and touches.
Placing a few kisses to the underside of his shaft, you let your tongue loll out of your mouth, giving it a teasing lick before wrapping your lips around the swollen head. Your hand still moving uuup and down his shaft, pulling moans and groans from the blond like they’re free candies.
“Look so pretty for us like this,” Gojo murmurs, not sure if he’s talking to you or Keigo. Not that it matters much to the shorter man, words only fueling him more. Eyes fluttering shut as you suuckk on his tip, tongue swirling around as you start bobbing your head up and down his shaft.
“O-oh shit,” Keigo moans when your nose meets his pelvis. His hand shoots down to your head, fingers hovering just over your hair as they flex, not sure if he’s allowed to grab your head like that.
Seems like you notice, though. Pulling yourself off him, lips shiny with saliva and pre, hand still jerking him off as you smile up at him—all innocent, like you didn’t just have him down your slutty throat. “Go on, you can do whatever you want.”
With that, you take him in your mouth again, throat bulging slightly as you deep throat him once more.
This time Keigo’s hand threads through your hair, fingers digging into the back of your skull as his own eyes roll back, only the whites visible. Abs flexing as he oh so desperately tries not to buck his hips forward, burying his cock down your throat like he wants.
“Taking me so good,” he whimpers—fucking whimpers out. Completely lost in you that he’s forgotten that there’s another presence in the room.
“You can be rougher than that, she takes cock like a champ. Don’t you, babe?” Keigo startles, eyes opening to see the other man completely bare. When did he even take his clothes off? Cock standing proud, tip a pretty blush colour as pre gathers along his slit. The sight makes the hero absolutely salivate.
The words don’t even process in his mind until you pull yourself off Keigo’s cock with a wet little pop! some saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth, despite the blond not being as big as your boyfriend. A whine escapes him as your warm, wet throat leaves him. The cool, chilly air of his bedroom making his ever-sensitive dick twitch a few times.
Luckily for him, your hand wraps itself around the blond’s cock, keeping him stimulated as you give teasing kitten licks to the neglected cockhead of your boyfriend’s cock.
Groaning, Gojo puts his hand on the back of your head, guiding your mouth until it’s wrapped around him. The tip grazing the roof of your mouth as you steady yourself with one hand on his big thigh.
Gojo starts fucking into your mouth with deep, harsh trusts. And fuck, the sight has Keigo buck his hips into your hand. It was clear that you could take a lot, especially with the way you were sloppily making out with his tip before sinking down to the base, his tip reaching the back of your throat. But seeing you swallow Gojo’s dick that is at least an inch and a half bigger than his own, yeah, taking cock like a champ is exactly right.
The room fills with the wet sounds of your gurgles, Gojo’s balls hitting your chin over and over again, and the sound of the white-haired man whining out your name between praises.
Gojo doesn’t let you come up for air even once. Not that you want it, from your expression. Literal hearts in your eyes as you look up at the man who’s currently rutting into your mouth like there’s no tomorrow, head thrown back, eyes closed.
You haven’t forgotten about the blond, though. Hand still moving up and down his shaft as you get absolutely used by the other man, your fingers digging into his thigh.
Keigo can feel himself get closer by the second, already having trouble not cumming right now—watching the way you’re taking all of Gojo like it’s your job. Even when the white-haired man’s hips buck uncontrollably, little whines leaving his lips as you keep sucking him off.
Pulling you off his girth, Gojo groans. “F-fuck sweetheart, let us cum on your face, hmm? You’re close too, right, handsome?” Keigo just nods his head, golden curls bouncing with the motion. “Of course you are, such a good boy.”
That does it, sending Keigo right over the edge. Hot white spurts landing on your face as you close your eyes and open your mouth.
Gojo is not far behind, cumming with a groan. Their release mixing on your face, painting you in white.
You scoop some of the cum from your cheeks, lips closing around your fingers as you lick it all up. A moan ripping itself from the back of your throat when the mixed cum hits your taste buds.
Keigo can’t even properly come down from his high—dick still twitching a few times, wing stubs moving on his back—before Gojo helps you stand, and licks some of the release from your face. His tongue lapping over your cheek, before sharing a filthy kiss with you, swapping the cum around in your mouths.
If Keigo’s dick wasn’t twitching before, it certainly is now. Getting half-hard again already, watching the way you two are just drinking each other up—and the cum, of course.
It’s only when Gojo scoops some of it from your cheek onto his fingers, that the blond comes to his senses a bit more. “C’mon pretty boy, you don’t wanna know how sweet we taste together?”
Gojo taps his cum-covered fingers on Keigo’s bottom lip, smearing some of it on there. For one second, just one, those golden eyes find yours—seeing the way you’re biting your lip, rubbing your thighs together where you’re still sat on your knees, eyes half-lidded—and he’s done for.
Opening his mouth, he sucks on Gojo’s fingers. The taste of both him and the other man filling his taste buds, and he can’t help but let his eyes flutter shut.
“Fuck, he looks so pretty like that. Almost makes me regret not asking him to suck me off with you,” Gojo whispers, blue eyes looking down at the other guy that’s currently sucking on his fingers like it’s his dick.
“We can always do that another time,” you reply. Having stood up from the ground, only to discard your own clothes. Not that Keigo notices that detail, eyes opening to directly stare up into those pretty blue orbs, tongue still swirling around those thick digits.
It’s only when you move to stand behind him, breath ghosting the shell of his ear as you lean forward, one finger tracing his spine, going especially slow when you’re close to his wings, that he snaps out of whatever trance he was in.
His wing stubs move erratically on his back, the sensitive skin your finger is currently grazing making him so fucking sensitive. A small whine leaving his throat when your finger comes down on what’s left of his wing bone.
“Maybe we can also play with those feathers of his next time.” The thought makes a shiver go down his spine, already thinking about how the two of you would use his feathers.
Fuck, would Gojo put him on his lap, back against his chest, those red feathers getting squished between bodies as he cards his fingers through the crimson feathers? All while you jerk him off, that devious throat of yours taking all of him in when he’s already sensitive.
Multiple scenarios flash through his head at once. You, on your back, fingers clinging to his biceps and shoulders, leaving behind angry marks he can admire for the rest of the day when he wakes up again.
Him, sinking down on Gojo’s ridiculously large cock, wings twitching as he tries to fit all of him in. All while Gojo whispers condescendingly praise into his ears, telling him how pretty he is when he’s struggling to take some cock.
Fuck, now is not the time to think about it, but rather to act it all out. And it seems like the two of you agree with that sentiment, especially when you try to take his shirt off, leaving him just as bare as you and Gojo already were.
“Think you can take me?” Gojo asks the blond, giving his own cock a few tugs.
Can he? He honestly has never even tried something this large before, only having a handful of experiences with other guys, where he topped most of the time. The few times he bottomed wasn’t with guys who were this big.
Keigo looks down once again, and he can swear Gojo has gotten even bigger somehow between fucking your throat and now. Surely a trick of his mind, getting a bit overwhelmed at the thought of all of that trying to fit inside of him.
“‘S okay if you can’t, baby,” you, still stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders a bit, say. “You two can fuck me instead if you don‘t think you can take it.”
Gulping, he looks at you for a few seconds, golden eyes completely blown out when he feels the way you’re pressing against him. Then looks back at where the taller man is standing, cock hanging from how heavy it is, glistening in the low bedroom lighting, making it all the more inviting.
“I can take it,” he responds, even though the thought of fucking you also weighs heavy on his mind. Thinking about how your walls would be clamping around him as he fucks into you the same time Gojo does.
But he can’t deny that he also wants Gojo, having daydreamed about what the tall man would do to him if he ever let it.
“Attaboy. We’ll take such good care of you,” Gojo whispers, sealing his promise with a filthy kiss. “Go on, lay down for me.”
He does as told, leaning back on the bed, propping himself up with his elbows so his wings don’t touch the bed.
At the same time you go to lay down beside him, legs spread. There’s slick along your inner thighs, glistening in the light. Of course Keigo can’t help but look at it, eyes immediately snapping towards your puffy folds.
Not that he has a view of it for long, because there’s a groan from the other man before he’s on you—eating you out like a man starved. There’s sweet moans falling from your lips as you fist some of the white hair, bringing Gojo closer toward you.
Speaking of, it’s not like they completely forget about him. One of your hands creeps over to where Keigo lay, wrapping around his base and giving him a few pumps, thumbing the slit with each pass of your hand.
Leaning over, he captures your mouth. Kissing you like there’s no tomorrow. The sound of the wet shlick shlick shlick along with the wet squelch of Gojo’s fingers moving in and out of you fills the room.
Before he knows it, you cum with a cry. Back arching as you moan out into Keigo’s mouth. “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum all over my tongue,” the white-haired man mumbles from between your legs. Before he finally lets up, removing his fingers from your dripping core, only to lap them clean. Shufflinf over to seat himself between Keigo’s legs now.
For a second, looking down at the man that’s currently looking at him like he wants to absolutely devour him, Keigo swears he sees something on his chest. A small marking that wasn’t there before. Tilting his chin further down, he can see it more clearly now, and it has his heart and mind absolutely racing.
It almost looks like a tattoo, in the most beautiful shade of blue he can even think of—almost the same shade as the man’s eyes who is currently between his legs, sucking hickeys into his skin he definitely has to cover up when he’s cleared to go on patrol again. (God forbid someone somehow saw one of the markings, he doesn’t have the time to explain to everyone that he’s a human being with needs.)
But the tattoo holds his attention, a small little heart with swirls all around them. It almost looks like it’s glowing, and his fingers can’t help but creep towards the mark.
“Isn’t it pretty?” Keigo startles when he hears your voice, much closer than he had anticipated it to be. Turning his head to the side, he’s met with you. Perched on your knees as you sit right beside him now, no longer laying on your back. Eyes wide, he can’t help but look you over for a few seconds.
His eyes go to the swell of your breasts, looking at the way they look so inviting to suck. Then travel down, all the way until he sees a similar mark on your own lower stomach—the same pretty shade of blue, a little heart with markings all around. A fucking womb tattoo.
How didn’t he notice it when Gojo was absolutely lapping you up? When your back was arched so pretty, eyes fluttering close.
“Since when…?” He can’t really find the words he’s looking for, golden eyes still trained on your womb while Gojo has finally stopped his ministrations, instead laying his head on Keigo’s thigh.
“Back when I made her my girlfriend—made her mine,” the taller man replies, blue eyes flitting between the two marks; eyes lingering on your tattoo a bit longer than on Keigo’s one. “As for yours… the first time we met.”
Keigo furrows his brows. The day they met? Surely he would’ve known if someone gave him a tattoo, especially on his chest. Plus, he’s never seen it before in his life. Sure, he was tired all the time, but not tired enough to miss a whole ass tattoo on his chest.
When the blond stays silent for longer than expected, Gojo pouts a little, glossy lip pushed out as he playfully bites the blond’s thigh. “Do you not like it?”
“I do! I do! It’s just… How did I miss this before?” He mutters more to himself than to either of you, but you perk up a bit. “Because we’re only showing it to you now, pretty boy.”
“What does that even mean— O-oh fuck!” He gets cut off when a warm mouth wraps around the tip of his blushing cock, tongue lapping up all the pre that was dripping already. One of his scarred hands flies down to tangle into the short, white locks of Gojo’s hair. Who is currently looking up with an amused glint in those pretty blue eyes.
Pulling himself off, a small pop! echoing through the room. “Sorry, did you want to ask something?”
“N-not really,” Keigo rasps, his hand trying to guide Gojo back to his swollen cock head. Gojo just chuckles, giving the blond a small wink, before he places small kisses all over the shaft—from his glossy tip to his frenulum, a small moan escaping the hero’s lips when he feels the teasing kitten lick over the thing, all the way down until his lips find the delicate skin of Keigo’s balls.
Wrapping his lips around them, Keigo has to focus on not bucking into the lager man’s hands. Small moans escaping his lips as Gojo plays with his balls, all whilst still jerking him off. The sight of such a pretty guy sucking on his balls while his hand is pumping him, has him positively twitching in the white-haired man’s hands.
“Didn’t forget about me, did you?” you purr at the blonde, one finger trailing from his throat down to his chest, where you circle one of his nipples. Shaking his head, curls bouncing with the motion, he cups your jaw to bring you in for a kiss.
At the exact same time, Gojo pulls away from his balls, only for two wet, cold fingers to circle his entrance. Pulling back from the kiss, he looks down to where Gojo is smearing the substance—of what he guesses is lube—in a messy circle around his hole, blue eyes staring up at him. “This okay?”
“Mhmm, yeah.” Keigo nods back, giving the okay for Satoru to sink one of his fingers inside of him. The foreign feeling has him hissing out, the slight stretch almost completely unfamiliar to the blond. You brush his fringe out of his face, a few golden curls stubbornly springing back into place. “Relax for him, pretty bird.”
He tries to do as much, just letting himself feel how Gojo is slowly moving his finger in and out of him. Finger sometimes crooking up, trying to find that spot inside of him. The white-haired man places a kiss on Keigo’s hipbone.
All while you lean over the blond, placing small kisses all on his shoulders and collarbones, sucking small marks into his skin.
The feeling of two sets of soft lips upon his skin makes him relax a bit more, enough that Gojo can sink his entire finger in. Trying to get him used to the stretch to get a second finger in. “Doing so good for me.”
Keigo’s cock twitches where it’s laying on his stomach, the soft amber lighting in the room annunciating the way his entire cock is glossy from pre and saliva. Throwing his head back, he doesn’t see the way the white-haired guy now leans up.
Grabbing the hero’s cock, Gojo wraps his lips around his shaft once more, trying to distract the smaller guy from the fact that he’s adding another finger in, slowly stretching him out more.
Keigo clenches around both digits, a small moan escaping him as he feels all too much—Gojo’s digits slowly scissoring him open while the white-haired male also lets his tongue lave over Keigo’s slit, and then there’s you.
Soft lips placing open-mouthed kisses over his skin, sometimes stopping to let your teeth sink in or suck a mark into the suntanned skin, until you stray a bit further down, your lips find the mark on his chest.
Hawks’ back arches from the bed, and Gojo has to wrap his free arm over the man’s waist, pinning him down so he doesn’t accidentally hurt the smaller guy; fingers still slowly moving inside of him, cock now buried in Satoru’s throat. Not that you’d know from the way the guy doesn’t even blink at the sudden movement, only sinks his head down further until his lips reach the base.
“Shit- fuck, what the fuck?” He groans, one hand finding the back of your head—where you’re still licking and sucking on the tattoo, and it’s almost like there are thousands of little nerve endings on the thing, making his dick twitch and pulse inside Gojo’s mouth.
Placing a small kiss on it, you look back up at Keigo, a smirk tugging on your lips. “Pretty nice, huh?”
He can’t find the words, especially not when you lick a broad stripe over the mark. His back arches, the stimulation of the mark plus the way his cock feels in Gojo’s tight throat and the three fingers currently moving inside of him, hurtles him over the edge.
It isn’t long before Gojo is pulling off and out of him, licking his lips like he was just served a meal. Throwing an arm over his eyes, he let’s himself breathe, chest heaving up and down.
“You ready for another?” The arm slides off his face to look at Gojo, who’s standing at the side of the bed, hand wrapped around his cock as he gives it a few lazy strokes. The confusion must show on his face, because both you and Gojo chuckle in unison. “I hope you ate enough to get plenty of energy, because we’re far from done with you yet.”
You're obsessed with your magic teacher, Master Qifrey, but he always treats you with the utmost respect, when you'd really love to get railed by him </3 Enter - Master Gojo. He's brought in to assist, and he has no issue giving you all sorts of lessons that Qifrey won't - like making you squirt. Qifrey is not very happy catching Satoru fingering you on the dining room table of all places though, so decides to make it both your problems!
٠ ࣪⭑ pairings - yandere! Gojo x witch! reader x Sorcerer! Qifrey
٠ ࣪⭑ warnings - Gojo being a little shit, kinda a crack fic lol, Qifrey losing it, horny reader, Qifrey and Gojo kiss on... accident!? twice! (Sure) fingering, oral (m and f receiving) p in v sex, spitting, cum swapping, Eifel tower, tummy bulges, creampies wc- 3.2k
part of my crossover event!!! I will have two more (Sugu / Sebby and Choso / Valko!) ty to everyone for two years on Tumblr - despite a couple loud haters, the majority of you all have made me very happy to write here!
qifrey art here!! Gojo art here!!
Satoru hates watching you like this, the apprentice of his damn dreams just over there drawing pretty patterns – with Master Qifrey of all people.
Oh, you'd think they got along because they're both white haired sorcerers?
Well you'd be dead ass wrong.
Satoru can't stand how much you have swooned at Qifrey since he's arrived to help with training the future witches here, don't you realize Satoru has six fucking eyes!? Qifrey has only one, how the fuck could he ever even dream to keep up with Satoru Gojo of all people?
It was amusing, him thinking he could – but was not amusing was seeing his crush with Qifrey, following him all around and giggling as if you were one of the other girls he kept. But no, you were a whole ass woman, and Satoru thinks Qifrey should keep to being a step dad, and leave you all to Gojo himself.
You were supposed to be training with him too, but half the time Qifrey was on some bullshit and just disappeared, leaving Gojo to deal with all the damn kids always getting into trouble. He was fine when he left though, when it meant moments with you all to himself.
His fists clench now, pretty blue eyes narrowing as he watches you and that white haired copycat through an arched window, you peek then, turning your head to the side as if you could feel his eyes – and catch him, making him flap his arms around and fall back on the soft grass.
Shit.
He doesn't need you to know how often he watches you, especially since he's come here - he should be focusing on the apprentices he is here to train, not dying over you, jerking his cock in the room next to yours. But you just smell so good, and you look up at him so damn pretty.
You're always simping for Qifrey though.
Satoru is right here!?
He is always trying to show you things, yet - like a brat, really - you're all doe eyed for the other white haired sorcerer. But this weekend, it’s gonna be his chance – for you to see how strong he is. Surely when Satoru shows you his own powers, you’ll get soaking wet.
Well…
You do get soaking wet, when Satoru accidentally transports you into a goddamn ocean.
“Shit!” He must have been distracted!? “I’m sorry, sweetheart… this never happens and…”
“It’s f-fine,” you’re coughing and shivering, your thin white gown clinging to your body in a way that further ruins Satoru altogether, his cock throbbing at the sight of you like this. “I think your transportation magic is… ahem… really…”
“You’re shivering,” he pouts now, tugging you to him, ignoring how good your tits feel against his chest, all lush and pretty. “I am sorry, lemme get you back home. I wanted to show you the beach, not…”
“It’s all right, Master Gojo,” you smile all tremulously, clinging to his neck as he picks you up. “I’m a little dizzy.”
“I’ve got you…”
Satoru gets you back, and after you’ve gotten into dry clothes, he realizes that the two of you are alone.
No kids up.
No one eyed Qifrey and his lover (that’s who Satoru thinks that man is, well… Satoru sure hopes!)
It’s his chance to show you a different magic.
He gathers himself that night at dinner, you're sitting next to him tonight, his hand resting on your thigh as he smiles at you, watching you bite down on your lip, a pretty flush to your skin.
"I am sorry again for today,” he murmurs, brushing a lock of your drying hair back gently. “I really thought I had that one down.”
“It was kind of fun,” you giggle now, sipping your wine, a drop of it on your lips. “Master Qifrey always keeps me away from any danger, locked up almost. So it was a little… exhilarating.”
“Yeah?” You nod and he exhales.
Thank God.
“I actually have a different method than Qifrey does for magic," he murmurs softly, as you nibble on your dinner. "I should show you some time."
"Oh, different from the ocean trip?"
"Mhm," you lean forward just a bit, pretty tits leaned out of your neckline for his hungry blue eyes to hit. You sip your wine carefully once more, feeling the intensity of his gaze taking your breath.
You may or may not have a crush on Qifrey - but you also may or may not have a crush on Satoru.
Scandalous, you can't do such things!
They're both your teachers, and you're a grown woman, much unlike the young girls that joined you as apprentices, aren't you supposed to set an example? But your thoughts are utterly wicked - imagining just how much of their cocks you can fit in your throat.
Scandalous thoughts that must end!
"I could show you, it's a little different," Satoru says, chuckling and slipping up that blindfold he wears constantly, letting pretty blue eyes drift across your collarbones. "More based on touch than drawings."
You feel your cunt clench around nothing. "Oh, touch, you say?"
"Mhm."
"Well,” you set down your glass, heart racing as the fire crackles, illuminating his tall shadow taking over yours on one of the stone walls of the Atelier. “I'm most eager to learn."
It's moments before Satoru has you spread right on that table, shoving your skirts up, his fingers pumping in and out of your needy cunt, the squelching so damn loud. He's leaning over you, as his fingers move in and out faster, a hand clutching yours as it rests on the table, your ass arched all pretty against him as you cry out.
"S-Satoru!"
Your voice is all hoarse as your head falls back, as much as you adored Qifrey - well, he'd kept it all professional. He'd never done more than brush your cheek with his fingers once, a lean close – so close you thought he’d kiss you – just to pull back and walk right out.
Not Satoru.
He had no problem kissing you messy, his eyes were insane as he hit your sweet spot over and over, laughing against your ear, lips brushing against it.
"How are my lessons, pretty little witch?"
"Wh-what... are you teaching, ngh," his teeth nip your ear, eliciting a filthy little cry. “They’re v-very – ah! Gojo…”
“Satoru,” he whispers, pumping faster with his thick fingers in your plump, messy cunt. “Say it, sweetheart.”
“Satoru!”
That's what Qifrey hears when he walks in.
"Well, here's that sweet spot, the one that makes you gush," he's honing in on it, smirking when Qifrey walks in, but your face is pressed against the table cloth, drooling on it, Satoru’s hand entangled in your hair.
Qifey is torn - between wanting to fuck Satoru up and wanting to drag you right over to himself, hearing your pathetic, mewling little cries, your squelching cunt as the dumb fucking sorcerer he brought in to help is touching you. Qifrey’s hands are damn near shaking, clenching into fists as he walks in, slamming his gear down on the ground loud enough for you both to pause.
Satoru just smirks, this little shit.
Your face is all fucked out, drool down your lips, eyes glazed over in a way Qifrey had only ever dreamed of.
Oh yes, filthy dreams of his apprentice, the one he’d tried so fucking hard to make sure not to touch, to be professional. Yet here Satoru Gojo is, with his dumb blindfold shoved up his face, grinning right at him and apparently fingering your cunt again, judging by the messy, wet sounds echoing and your little moan.
“What is the meaning of this!?” He demands, you bite your lower lip, but Satoru simply hums a bit, reaching around to grip one of your tits, squishing it in his hand.
“I was showing her my own magic, one eye.”
Qifrey snorts, shaking his head and pulling out his little notebook. “Time for you to get locked the fuck away, six eye freak.”
“Aww, can’t make her cum without your doodles?” He’s got you arching, and Qifrey’s cock is throbbing underneath his robes, his eye damn near twitching behind that spectacle, as your nails scramble for purchase on the table.
Qifrey walks over and Satoru is furious at how you grip his fingers when he’s that close, how thick your coating of slick gets, he gets so mad he slips a third finger inside, making you cry out.
“Eyes on me,” he murmurs in your ear, but the other sorcerer is gripping your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, that eye glinting dark.
“No, eyes on me,” he says softly in that tone of his, absolutely fucking you up, his free hand trailing down the side of your pretty tit, tracing the gentle curve as you’re trying to hold it together. “You needed your cunt played with and never told me?”
“She didn’t need to tell me,” Satoru’s lips pressed against your neck, his teeth nipping your skin.
“I tried but y-you… seemed very – ngh, reserved,” he sighs, shaking his head once more.
“Here in the dining room? Really, Gojo?”
“Want dinner though,” he pulls out his fingers, dripping with you, smirking as he sees the sorcerer fucking salivate, sucking your juices right off them, moaning, his cheeks hollowed. “She’s so tasty.”
“My room. Now.”
You both pause, Satoru raising a brow, but Qifrey just walks off, looking at you both behind his shoulder.
“I said now.”
You’re sure you’re in for the worst tongue lashing of your life, even as Satoru has this big, shit eating grin on his face, walking up the winding stairs to his room, when the door shuts behind you, and suddenly it’s Qifrey, his fingers on the buttons of your gown, making quick work of them. He sighs when he sees you naked, groaning at the sight of your pretty body as Gojo’s own eyes dart across.
“Seems our first time will have to be sharing you,” he murmurs, clicking his tongue and brushing your hair back. “Shame, I wanted you all to myself.”
“Who says I’ll share her?” Satoru tugs you to him, lifting you like it’s nothing with his hands on your thighs, carrying you right over to Qifrey’s bed and laying you down, just for the other sorcerer to come right over, shoving Satoru right over.
“You already started having fun,” he presses you down against those silk sheets, cool against your heated skin, making you tremble just a bit. “Look at you…”
“Master Qifrey…” You’re all flustered, and he raises a brow, as Satoru’s slipping off his top, revealing the muscles of his hard body, while Qifrey’s fingertips trail your thighs, sliding up and making you tremble.
“You were aching all this time, hmm?” His voice rushes over you, and Satoru’s sigh is loud.
“Will you move so I can show you how to eat pussy?”
“Tch, think I don’t know how to pleasure a woman?” Satoru is snickering as Qifrey kneels at the foot of the bed.
“Do you just draw on her thigh?” Qifrey doesn't answer, he simply slips his long fingers up your skin. Watching those juices pour right out.
"I've wanted to do this since I first saw you," Qifrey murmurs, as if it’s just for you – spreading your thighs with his hands carefully. "Taste this sweet, pretty little pussy."
“You have? I–ah!” He leans in, his breath hot against your sensitive folds, before his tongue makes contact with your dripping slit.
You cry out, arching against the bed, hips pressed up as he licks a slow stripe up your slit a few times, coating his tongue in it before he parts your puffy folds, circling your clit with deliberate precision. The very tip of his tongue swirling intricate patterns like drawings, all in front of Satoru Gojo.
“Fuck…” that's all he can manage, as one of your hands grip the sheets, and the other entangles in Qifreys pretty white locks.
“There it is,” he mumbles, pussy drunk as he smirks over at Satoru. “She quite likes her clit being covered in my ‘drawings’ hmm?”
Satoru watches with hungry blue eyes before kneeling down right next to him, his mouth capturing your other thigh in a little kiss, grasping dribbles that are glistening right down.
“Move over,” he bites your skin. nudging Qifrey aside. "Let me taste her too."
Instead of arguing, Qifrey simply shifts a bit, leaning over you to capture your chin, allowing Satoru to eye your dripping folds, parting your pussy wide and watching it clench around nothing.
Qifrey spits your own cum in your mouth.
“Swallow, pretty Apprentice.”
You eagerly obey, earning a pleased smirk as Satoru buries his face against you with just a bit of clumsiness, his tongue exploring every inch of your folds before pulling back with a groan.
"Fuck, you're tight," he mumbles, sliding a finger inside as Qifrey licks your clit again, the squelches obscene. "Can you even take us?"
“Mhm – ah!” Your thoughts are cut off when both men begin to eat your cunt – desperately, your hands in each of their silky white locks, one of your thighs in each hand as they spread you wide.
Qifrey leans in and captures Satoru's lips in a messy kiss as if to make sure to capture all your juices, his tongue slipping over Satoru's mouth to taste you on him. The sight makes your cunt clench around Satoru's fingers, the way they're moaning. The way the saliva drips between them – your two teachers sharing your taste between them right over your twitchy clit.
“Oh…” they both blush a bit and pull back as if it were some mistake, before diving back in, tongues circling your clit in tandem, both men's fingers working your needy cunt. “Did you two… ah. Kiss?”
“No!?”
“Indeed no!?”
You go to giggle.
Big mistake.
The two white haired sorcerers immediately position you, so you're laying on your back sideways on the bed, Qifrey settling between your thighs with his fat cock tugged out of his robes, as Satoru positions himself by your head, his pink tip dripping white little drops on your lips.
“You want me to take care of you, hmm? Pretty girl,” Qifrey’s words are fucking you up – blood rushing through your ears as you nod, feeling his cock slide between your puffy folds, while Satoru’s darts on the seem of your lips, running across it achingly slow.
"I want to watch that pretty throat bulge when I fuck it," he murmurs, moaning when you lap at his tip, your mouth opening wide. “Watch you swallow every inch."
"And I want to see myself…” He pushes right into your slick heat, you’re so damn wet your cunt takes him easy despite how fucking long he is, he lets out a little moan, eyeing that stomach bulging. “Right here.”
tBoth men eye your body, Qifrey painting pretty patterns with his fingers on your tummy, while his cock is gliding in, Satoru pressing so that you choke on him, shushing you carefully.
“That’s it, you can take us, sweetheart,” he cooes those words, watching his shape in your throat while he sees Qifrey’s cockprint moving in and out of your stomach. “Look at you. Made for it.”
“You're taking us so well,” Qifrey whispers, picking up your thighs now and spreading them wide, watching how she so greedily grabs onto his cock, every thrust making slick just pour. “I was neglecting my apprentice, I see.”
“You were,” Satoru whines out – Qifrey would make fun of that sound, but he’s doing the same goddamn thing when you grip him, swallowing around the other sorcerer’s cock. “Fuck…”
They begin to move their cocks in perfect sync, tears slip from the corners of your eyes as Satoru sinks deeper, and Qifrey’s tip is just kissing your cute lil cervix. You’re so full of both of them you can hardly see, vision fuzzy as your eyelashes flutter closed, seeing stars behind your eyes.
It’s not long before he has you on your hands and knees, sucking Satoru like that while his hand entangles in your hair, his heavy balls slapping your clit, the loud slick sounds of the men fucking you echoing in the bedchamber. Satoru’s gasping out as he shoves his cock fully inside your mouth, that tip gliding on your throat until your nose is flush with the little smattering of white hair, and Qifrey is leaned back, watching your cunt taking him.
“Look at that, so eager,” he clicks his tongue, smirking just a bit, that little eye glass fogging up with his own breaths as he pulls out fully, slapping his fat cock right on your needy cunt, chuckling. “Beggin’ for all that cum inside, isn’t she?”
Satoru pulls out so you can speak, throat sore with how he’s stretched it out, saliva just dripping from your lips. Satoru tilts your chin up, smiling down at you, thumb brushing over your lower lip now, swiping some of his pre.
“Answer him, sweetheart.”
“Want it,” you manage, peeking back to see your teacher gripping your hips, nudging his tip teasingly against your clit, coating it in sticky pre. “I do…”
“How do we ask, love?” Qifrey nudges your clit again. “Have I not taught you any manners during our lessons?”
“Please,” you whisper, gasping out as Qifrey shoves his length back inside your snug lil cunt, she’s quivering all round him as he leans close, and Satoru is tugging your mouth back open.
“Want to swallow all this cum while he fills you?” He asks, making your cheeks heat up. “Looking all innocent when you just want all this cum.”
“Mhm,” is all you can manage, tongue out, letting them both fuck their loads inside – so full you’re swallowing Gojo down, as Qifrey pumps you so full it won’t even stay in.
Don’t worry – the sorcerers make sure to clean your pussy right up, and if their tongues catch each other, well they’re just sharing your taste – and Qifrey’s cum is quite sweet, even if Satoru won’t admit it. They’re certainly not kissing, and they absolutely can’t stand each other – they’re just getting along for you!
1k words, shoko x fem!reader, fingering, cunnilingus, medical exam, orgasm, dirty talk, doctor x patient …
you hated waiting rooms.
all the hushed whispers, the suspense of waiting for your name to be called, the bright lights that prove to be too harsh on your eyes…
all of that suddenly didn’t matter as soon as doctor ieiri came out of her examination room, calling your name. it also helped that she was stupidly attractive.
you follow her into the examination room, closing the door behind you and sitting down on the cold bed in the corner.
she had those tired, seductive eyes that almost had you blushing — soft, long brown hair that stopped just below her breasts. you could smell her shampoo from your seat, the sweet scent clouding your thoughts.
shoko has been your gynecologist for around two years now. each time you saw her, you silently admired her, trying to contain your highly inappropriate thoughts that worsened with every appointment.
surely she didn’t notice that you were freshly waxed every time you had an appointment — or that sometimes you booked to see her for no good reason.
"how have you been? any problems i should know about" she says, voice raspy and somewhat bored, with a twinge of fascination. "i’ve been okay, no problems," you respond.
shoko hums, stepping out of the room as usual so you can undress your bottom half, allowing you to get comfortable in the stirrups.
when she re-enters, she pulls a pair of blue latex gloves over her hands, rolling her stool between your spread legs before adjusting the lamp above her. "try to relax, i’m going to begin with an external examination as normal."
"okay…" you say, a faint blush creeping up your face from your cunt being completely bare in front of her. you thought you’d be used to it by now.
shoko begins spreading your folds with two fingers, lightly pressing around the area, looking for any abnormalities. "hm. all looks good to me," she says, accidentally (not) brushing her thumb over your clit, "…perfect, even."
your breath hitches. "sensitive today, aren’t we?" she observes, voice dropping an octave.
it was already becoming hard to ignore the throb of your clit, the ache inside of you — desperate to be touched properly by shoko’s skilled hands.
"so, no discomfort…here?" she adds, pressing her thumb against your clit, making your body visibly twitch. you clear your throat. "n-no, doctor ieiri. not at all."
she laughs dryly, "we’ve known each other long enough for you to call me shoko, don’t you think?" you can feel your heart beating faster. "shoko…" you correct yourself, tongue darting out to wet your suddenly dry lips.
shoko couldn’t help but notice how sinful her name sounded in your mouth, how your slit began to glisten as she trailed her finger up it. "you’re wet," she purrs.
you swallow. hard.
"i’m sorry, doc," you pause, "…shoko, i’m not sure why my body is acting so strangely today," you lie, feeling betrayed by your own body.
shoko looks at you, tilting her head. "i think you do know why, don’t you" she says, placing one hand on your thigh, soothing the soft skin with her palm.
before you can answer, she continues. "i’ll begin with my internal examination now." you nod, bracing yourself as two fingers enter you.
the first few movements of her fingers were careful. professional. designed to ensure comfort and explore for any abnormalities. then, she begins moving them in and out of your cunt, slowly, curling them upwards with devastating precision.
she draws a long, breathy moan from you, feeling your body begin to relax. "good… you’re responding well," she says, her ministrations only making you wetter. needier.
"and how does this feel?" she adds, using her other hand to rub perfect circles over your clit, the latex and dual stimulation making you curl your toes in the cold metal stirrups.
"really — nmnnn — good," you moan, pussy fluttering around shoko’s lithe fingers. she continues for a few seconds longer before withdrawing her fingers, making you whine from the loss of contact.
shoko hums again. "poor thing. did you want me to continue?" she teases, professionalism long gone as soon as she heard your sweet moans.
you nod feverishly, propping you upper body up on your elbows, pussy glistening with your slick.
"lay back, sweetheart," shoko instructs, moving her stool closer, breath now fanning over your core. you gasp as she broadens her tongue, licking firm stripe up your slit.
she hums at the taste, both gloved hands now resting on your thighs. "so sweet… i should’ve done this three appointments ago."
leaning in again, she continues teasing your slit with her tongue, tasting you, then redirects her efforts to your aching clit. she swirls her tongue around your little nub, then sucks it firmly into her mouth — watching you carefully to see how you respond.
"o-oh my god," you mewl, finally having your gynecologist’s mouth right where you’ve craved it all along.
her pure skill left you lost for words, every flick of her tongue, every suck of your clit, had you silently begging for more — hips bucking against her face desperately.
"needy girl," she mumbles, now practically making out with your clit, alternating between sucking and licking.
you were already halfway to orgasm, needy whines increasing with every passing second. "feels so good, ahhnn — don’t stop," you beg.
shoko inserts two fingers inside of you again, tongue continuing to pleasure your clit. "where are your manners, hm?" she tantalizes, massaging your insides like the professional she is.
"please — oh god — please," you pant, receiving a satisfied smile from shoko in in response. "good girl."
shoko quickens the pace, tongue lapping at your clit in hurried motions, fingers dragging through your walls even deeper. "you’re close, aren’t you, pretty," she states — fully aware of the tension within you fraying, feeling your cunt contract around her fingers.
you nod frantically again, any coherent words or thoughts suddenly gone.
with a few more flicks of her tongue, you snap, moaning her name with a sharp cry, attempting to lock your thighs around her head.
shoko forces your thighs back open, making your body seize uncontrollably. "mm, stay still — there you go," she murmurs against your soaked folds.
she soothes you through the aftershocks with her tongue, fingers slowing, tongue coming to a stop once you were done. after withdrawing her fingers, she presses a firm kiss to your clit, watching your hips stutter from sensitivity.
your appointments are surely going to become far more regular than necessary.
"i'm not sleeping there." megumi pouted, arms crossed with his head turned as he stared at his bed placed next to yours.
"and what's that supposed to mean, brat?"
"i wanna sleep next to y/n."
you were trying to hold back your sigh, watching your boyfriend argue with his kid like his life depended on it.
"megumi, you have to be independent, you're all grown now!" you chirped, trying to convince him to sleep on the other mattress instead of biting his dad and hissing in his direction while you tried to get some shut eye.
"my dad's an old man, tell him to be independent!" megumi yelled, running into your arms so you'd pick him up—and you always did, because with his beady eyes and chubby cheeks, who could possibly resist it?
"your dad is independent, baby."
"no he's not! he's always sleeping on you!" you almost choked on your own spit, coughing while toji laughed like a menace behind you.
"toji grow up."
"i'm all good, doll."
he grunted, scratching the back of his neck before moving closer to you, placing a soft kiss on your cheek, before megumi punched him in the chest.
"ack—hands off of me your gremlin!"
"gumi don't hit your dad." you said, brushing his hair from his face before he looked up at you with the saddest expression in his eyes.
"i didn't do anything."
"gumi."
"i didn't!" he said, nuzzling into your neck, before lifting his head up to stare down his dad.
"good god, the two of you are the same."
"amazing?"
"handsome?" toji said, his shit eating grin spreading across his face, while you sighed.
"insufferable, but the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, i guess." you said before slowly lowering megumi to the ground, walking out of the room to finally get yourself a glass of water while toji stared down his son.
"she loves me more, y'know?"
"y/n says it's bad to lie, papa."
"oh you—."
he was only met with your restrained giggles from the kitchen, watching him bicker with his toddler, while your laugh echoed in the room was quite literally all he could ever ask for—because toji fushiguro never knew what it meant to want, let alone to have a life a softness handed to the palm of his hands. and toji fushiguro was a selfish man, he'd hold onto this as long as his bloodied hands could.
working on two gojo fics i promise!! i’m planning so many fics hehe
all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
hello my dear angels! i'm just checking in to let you know that i'll be returning sometime next week and would like your input. i've been having trouble with settling on an idea to write and need assistance with choosing one!
